Last night, for no particular reason, I was suddenly seized with the impulse to go read Neil Gaiman’s blog. Now I know why.

Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite writers: a gentle, kind soul wrapped within a brilliant creative personality and wicked sense of humor. (I mean, humour.) If you haven’t read Stardust, or Coraline, or Neverwhere, or (if you are in the mood for something a wee bit darker) American Gods, you’re missing something timelessly amazing.

(Or, just read The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish; it will take you all of ten minutes.)

One of those writers whose work makes you feel like after reading it, your life now means more than it did before.

Neil’s was the first blog I read regularly, nearly a decade ago. It was what inspired me to create this one. (Now you know why this blog is called “Journal.”)

But I hadn’t gone there to visit in quite some time.

I must have been drawn by the sad vibe. When I clicked over, I found Neil’s sweetly melancholy ode to his dog, who had just moved on, after years of cameraderie.

I remember reading Neil’s posts in the spring of ’07, when he and Dog (later renamed Cabal) first got acquainted.

This is a post I am so glad I didn’t miss, and thought I ought to share it with you, too.

I wish dogs lived longer too, Neil. I keep hoping mine will live forever.